Home
by tmcala
Summary: He can't hide his paintings from her, she loves them. But they haunt her. Songfic- The Artist by The Hush Sound


**A/N: Alrighty, so this is songfic based on the song The Artist by The Hush Sound. The characters might seem a little random, but we don't really know what happens after decommisioning so I'm just going to pretend this could actually make sense. This is my first shot at a song fic so.....let me know how I did? **

**Disclaimer: I don't own KND or this song.**

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_I know that you're an artist  
You're the hardest one to deal with_

Ever since they turned thirteen he had been this way. Moody, unhappy. She wasn't surprised when he took up art; he really needed something to occupy himself. To let out all those feelings that for some reason he had never been able to tell her. Besides, art was the one thing he did well. Except, there was this nagging at the back of her head, that there were other things, too. She just couldn't seem to remember them.

_Everything that you conceal is revealed on your canvas  
You find all of your ugly meanings  
In the things I find beautiful_

He couldn't hide his paintings from her. She loved them, they were mesmerizing. In them she could see everything he felt, as if his heart had been placed under a microscope. But they haunted her too. They forced her to see the differences between her and him. She looked at the sunset out her bedroom window and saw beauty, glory, and peace all wrapped up into one occurrence. He would paint the same thing, and it would almost bring her to tears with its sadness.

_Do you see the fall is coming?  
Come, I'm falling into you_

She couldn't see herself without him. No matter how many times he ignored her or yelled at her or took her completely for granted. She loved him entirely. Even though she couldn't remember anything from her seventh to thirteenth birthdays, she was pretty certain she had loved him for a while. She knew him like a well-worn map, and he'd probably never say it, but she knew he loved her too.

_You perceive all of these things I'd never have known  
Love, will you turn out the lights?  
Cause we're already home  
Home_

It was hard for her to look at those paintings, beautiful depictions of pain, and not become just like him. She held her chin up because she knew that they would never make it through to the end if they both lost faith. Those creations had the ability to stop someone in their tracks and make them think. She didn't want to think. She was pleased with the world she lived in, she wanted him to live there too. She wished he would stop shining light on cynical ideas so they could live life.

_You painted me in pastels  
Colors that don't tell of any boldness  
Cause that's the way you love to see me,  
So delicate, so weak, so little purpose_

She needed to be there for him. Without her, he never looked at the world with anything but disdain, disappointment. But, when he drew them together, she was the background. A whisper of the person she really was. Her golden hair was colored a pale yellow. Warm brown eyes devoid of any emotion. She didn't know why it was he drew her like this. Was he afraid of the power she held over him? Afraid of how much he depended upon her? She was his crutch and deep down they both knew this.

_But your eyes are drawn of charcoal  
They're black, they're so cold, they're so imperfect  
Cause they see a sleeping world where waking isn't worth it_

If she was the background, his eyes were the focus point. He always made them black. An angry black, coat upon coat of the blackest paint he could find. They say eyes are a window to the soul. He put a shade over his. In reality, his eyes were brown. The kind of brown that reminded her of a leaf in fall. They were warm and inviting, especially for someone filled with so much anger. Sometimes she would forget, and she would see dark black holes instead.

_You perceive all of these things I'd never have known  
Love, will you turn out the lights?  
Cause we're already home  
Home_

If she didn't love him so much, she wouldn't put up with this. She needed to fix him. He was her best friend, her other half, right now, her worse half. He always complained about there being something missing. He'd tell her there was something he was supposed to be doing, but he, like her, couldn't remember nearly enough. He would tell her that he couldn't remember ever feeling young. And she'd reply that she couldn't either.

_Can you live without your lies?  
I've had enough of you tonight_

When she would get him talking, he never forgot to stop at that point right before he truly let her in. There was only so much some paint on a canvas could say, and it would never be enough. She hated his lies, "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine." She was not blind, she was not stupid. Sometimes, she wished that she had enough strength to give up and let him go. _  
_

_All of these things I'd never have known  
Love, will you turn out the lights?  
Cause we're already home  
Home_

Maybe his paintings told the truth, maybe she was weak. The background to this vibrantly angry boy. She didn't know, she would probably never know. But for now, he was her responsibility. And she was glad for it. She, Rachel McKenzie, knew that if the only thing she could remember from being young was this boy, there was a reason for it. There was so much she didn't know, so why would she give up the one thing she did?

Nigel Uno was not the boy every girl would have asked for. But, for some reason he made her feel just the littlest bit closer to youth every time he smiled. She caused those smiles. Without her, he would have no background, no constant force. Perhaps, everything would just be coat upon coat of that blackest paint. Rachel had to be his home, and he was beginning to become hers.


End file.
